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“Soldiers are citizens of death’s gray land, means life or death maybe, they thought of fire lit homes when the guns began, knock-kneed limped on, blood-shod, bonds to the whims of murder, great hour of destiny, they stand, Obscene as cancer, forced to fight on their homeland, Soldiers are citizens of death’s gray land, to cross the sleeping green between, but still they stare untroubled as he stands and mocked by hopeless longing to regain.”